Adios, Me Ke Aloha
by Heartbeats In Stereo
Summary: A man who has sworn vengeance against Steve McGarrett has a special send off for the veteran detective that has the Five-O team grasping at straws as they race against time to find their comrade, before its too late.
1. Chapter 1

_**Adios, Me Ke Aloha**_

**AN – Thank you for taking the time to read my very first ever story. I tried to incorporate all the things my English teacher Mr S has been telling me to do - hopefully it worked! If you loved it or hated it, please let me know in a review as I really appreciate feedback.**

"Steve, its dangerous! You could really get hurt undercover this time!" Danny argued, moving forward in his chair at the front of Steve's desk. The azure blue eyes were blazing with anger, which did nothing to alleviate Steve's massively rising Irish temper. "You should know better than anyone not to waltz in there without back up. Federico is gunning for the chance to get you on his turf so he can get you!"

McGarrett sighed in frustration as he sorely wished he had a cigarette. Having long given up the habit after finding out its negative health effects, the detective settled for steepling his fingers together and took a deep calming breath, before clearing his throat. "Danno, we have a once in a lifetime chance to bust one of the biggest syndicates wide open here. We've got a lead into their organization and I'm going to do everything that I can to make sure Louis Federico is brought to justice. He's had a cell at Oahu State Prison reserved since the murders of the last seven officers sent undercover."

Danny drummed his fingers on the cool koa wood of Steve's desk as he contemplated just what to say to get through the patented McGarrett stubbornness. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he had the chance to stop Steve from doing something very foolish and had not acted on the chance. Steve was more than just a boss and a mentor, someone to take orders from – he was Danny's friend and in this business friends were a very valuable commodity.

The feeling of unease only intensified as the seconds trickled slowly by and he found himself unable to raise any rational objection to the plan, so he chose to go for a more personal approach. The detective heaved a long, drawn out sigh. "Look Steve, I…" Danny faltered for a few moments, before he found the strength to continue, "I have a really bad feeling about this. At least let us put some HPD men on surveillance, keeping a lookout on you. Federico's notoriety for sadism is unequalled. Once he finds out you're Five-O, I don't think that we have any hope of reaching you in time. Add to that, its Steve McGarrett himself! Please, Steve, I'm asking you, as your friend, to not go ahead with this. It's extremely foolish and equivalent to signing your own death warrant."

The quietness of Danny's voice broke through the haze of anger, and Steve found himself staring at his friend quite shocked. He understood Danny's concern for him; if it were Danny in his shoes then he would have been vehemently refusing permission for this assignment. He was very touched at his friend's deep concern but now was not the time to indulge in such sentimental thoughts. Shaking his head sadly, Steve replied. "Danno, we both know that there is no other way this assignment can be carried out. You've already been burned once at the hands of Federico." Steve chose at that precise moment to look pointedly at Danny's navel where the stitches had finally been removed from the slash wound one of Federico's henchman had inflicted as a warning to cease or desist, "We need to close this case and we need to do it fast. They already know they are being tailed and I bet you they will disappear underground within the next week or so. At that stage we will have no way of bringing them forward. This is our only shot Danno, and I'm not going to waste it." Moving to stand up, Steve walked around the desk to stand in front of Danny, before clapping a hand on the younger man's left shoulder. "I appreciate your concern, Danno. I really do, but…" Steve trailed off as he walked to retrieve his black bag resting on the side of the bookcase before turning around to look at the man still seated in the chair, "As I cop I'm sure you know that this is the best thing to be done in the current circumstances."

Steve looked at Danny, willing the younger man to understand the magnitude of his cooperation. In no way must Federico's boys get on the scent of HPD anywhere near him for the next few days. This was the most dangerous kind of undercover mission - alone and with no backup. A small note of fear rose up but Steve quickly suppressed it. It would do no good for Danny to see his fear; it would only cast further doubts on his pending acceptance of the whole thing.

After what seemed like an interminably long time, Danny merely nodded his head and with that, Steve wordlessly turned around and headed out the door to do what had to be done, leaving Danny at odds with following Steve's directive of no back up or listening to his ten years of cop instinct's which were telling him to make sure that back up was at the ready, should Steve need it. Moving a hand to rub at the newly healed slash wound idly, Danny decided to give it some time before acting.

Maybe by then he would be able to approach the situation from a level headed viewpoint.

**_x-o-x-o-x-o-heartbeats in stereo-o-x-o-x-o-x_**

Steve took a deep breath as he approached the _Go Go Lounge, _Federico's base of operations. Situated in a vibrant nightlife hot spot at Waikiki, the alternating green, blue and red neon lights bathed Steve in different colors as he approached the bouncers Jorge and Kenny. The well-muscled men flexed their fingers and cracked their knuckles threateningly the closer Steve got to them. They looked down at the detective as he grinned at them. "Care to let me pass?"

"See dat dere, bruddah?" Jorge growled, pointing to the cue snaking out past the door. "You gotta wait in line."

"Boys, I got an appointment with St Louis himself in there." Steve replied breezily, as he extracted a black business card with a single camellia flower printed on one side and a cross printed on the other. "Let me through, the man doesn't like to be kept waiting." Upon sighting this card the large men stepped aside to let Steve through, and it wasn't long before he disappeared into the pulsating mass of people on the dance floor as they moved to the rhythm of the disco beat. Trying valiantly to ignore the migraine that came from all the strobe lighting and the heavy pounding of the disco tune, Steve ignored the sight of scantily clad girls in glow in the dark sequined clothing as they twirled around the poles and performed lewd dance moves as he moved towards the bar, where a surly looking bartender was wiping some glasses. "Hey, where can I find St Louis?"

The bartender didn't even bother to turn around to face him, but nodded in the general direction of the dark hallway before mumbling around the half smoked cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Down at the end of the rabbit hole there, mate."

"Mahalo." Steve thanked, before heading in the general direction of the dark hallway. As soon as he fell into the dark shadows a pair of strong, rough hands seized him by the shoulders and shoved him against the wall.

Struggling to break free of the vice like grip, Steve lifted his foot backwards and kicked hard, resulting in a grunt of pain as his assailant sank to the floor. The man then kicked at Steve's foot such that he groaned in pain and toppled to the floor as well, before his attacker rolled on top of him, pinning him to the ground. Despite the darkness, the cool brush of metal against his jaw and the soft click of the safety as it was switched off told him the man was armed. The air rushed out of his lungs in one rush as his attacked moved into a sitting position, keeping the gun locked onto the detective as his other hand patted Steve down to make sure he was not carrying any concealed weapons or wires.

Once satisfied, the man stood up and seized Steve by the shirt collar to pull him up as well, before allowing the metal barrel of the gun to dig prominently into the small of the detective's back before ordering in a rough voice, "Move!"

"No need to treat me so rough. All you had to do was ask." Steve responded in between rapid breaths. That hard fall onto the floor probably had jarred his left knee because every step forward into the darkness sent a fresh tinge of pain that seared his nerves. The detective let himself be frog marched down the corridor to the very end before the man behind him reached forward to grasp the doorknob in his hands and twisted it, pushing both the door open and Steve through it.

Stumbling across the threshold, the detective barely had time to steady himself before a nasty right hook connected with his jaw, causing the man to topple gracelessly to the floor again as the taste of wet copper bloomed in his mouth. He barely had a moments respite before fast, hard blows were being kicked into his abdomen in a constant rain of ferocity such that Steve was unable to do anything beside roll into a fetal position as he tried to protect himself. A very well aimed kick with a steel capped boot to his stomach sent the bile rising up his throat as a coughing fit wracked through him. The taste of blood only got stronger the more he coughed, and gagged, spitting blood and bile onto the dusty floor before he was flipped onto his back and something sharp was plunged into his abdomen. Flinching instinctively upwards into the stab wound, the detective gasped as white-hot pain radiated from the knife and he felt the fabric of his shirt soak through with blood. The agony caused his eyes to roll upwards into his skull as he arched his back in a futile attempt to get away, which was impossible as the knife kept him where he was. A bloodcurdling scream rent the air as the knife sunk deeper, pulling all the breath out of his lungs. The last words he heard before succumbing to the darkness were:

"Adios, ke aloha."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN – Hi everyone, thank you for all the support you've given with your lovely reviews, you guys inspired me to write! In answer to Kate Weaver Smith and anonymous's review about Steve's smoking - I do know he didn't smoke in the show but in my world he smoked when he was in the navy and like my dad when he quit - he didn't like anyone smoking because he says he still gets the urges to smoke, especially when he is nervous. There's also a bit of swearing in this chapter, please be warned!**

The unmarked police car pulled up a few blocks away from the _Go Go Lounge _before rolling to a gentle stop just in front of the parking meter. Danny put the transmission into park before turning his head to look at the Polynesian detective seated next to him. Ben had a better chance of going undercover as he was a new recruit to Five-O and was not well known on the islands just yet. With Steve's life on the line they had to be careful not to jeopardize his clandestine investigation. As Danny looked at Ben's calm face, he prayed that Steve was going to forgive for going against a direct order to steer clear. He had no doubts that this was going to have resounding repercussions on their friendship, but he was too far-gone to care. Steve's life meant more to him than this assignment. "Okay. Run it by me one more time."

Ben took a deep breath before reciting the plan almost verbatim. "Go in there, sniff around a bit to see where the dice have fallen. Recon and nothing more. Don't want to tip our hand to them."

Nodding his head, Danny replied in a solemn voice. "If you manage to see Steve, and he's in any kind of danger, do not make any sudden moves. Stay calm – whatever you do, do not blow your cover. At the first sign of trouble we will storm the place."

The new detective patted his shirt, just where the wire was securely taped to his body as he grinned at Danny in an attempt to cover up the nervousness he was feeling. "You betcha. You'll be the first to know if they give me any trouble." Moving to open the car door, Ben stepped outside and just before he slammed it shut, he shared a long hard look with Danny, before turning away and heading up the streets, his footsteps echoing along the well-worn pavement. Once Danny could make out the sight of Ben entering the club, he put the headphones onto his head and switched the wire on, instantly being hit with the raucous sounds of partying and heavy bass. As soon as there were any signs of trouble, he was going to call for back up and get both Steve and Ben out of there.

_**x-o-x-o-x-o-heartbeats in stereo-o-x-o-x-o-x**_

"Fuck." Federico muttered as he stared down at the fallen detective on the ground. Using his steel capped boot to nudge at Steve's head, he has supremely dismayed to find that it rolled uselessly side-to-side. "The cop's already given out, just when we were getting started. Useless piece of shit." Sneering at the knife protruding out of a rapidly blooming pool of red on the floor, he moved to wipe his blood stained boot on the fabric of the detective's shirt, the sneer turning into the grimace as he turned away to stare at his subordinate officer Malasuerte, who was leaning against the desk smoking a cigarette, blowing rings of smoke into the air. "Check to see whether he's alive."

With a nod, the stocky Hispanic man stubbed out his half smoked cigarette on the ashtray lying next to him on the desk before crouching over the body of the unconscious detective. His stubby fingers sought out the soft underside of Steve's neck, seeking the steady thrum of a pulse. "Yeah, the cop's still alive, but barely. Not going to take much more to kill him. You want me to finish it and make it so that no one ever finds him?"

"I want you to bring him back here. I don't care how you do it as long as he is awake and responsive to everything I want to do to him. I'm going to make sure that he never has the nerve to darken my doorstep again." Federico fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette before lighting up, and sighed with satisfaction at the sight of his arch nemesis on death's doorstep. "Only then, when he is a toothless tiger will I deliver the final blow. There's no point now, there will be no satisfaction in striking down a fallen man."

"Understood." The crouching man stood up and moved to extract a small leather covered case from his leather jacket, before unzipping it to reveal a small selection of tourniquets, needles and vials tightly strapped inside. The Mexican man then rolled the sleeve of the unconscious man's shirt up before securing the tourniquet on his upper arm, smiling nicely as he pulled on it to make the vein show up. Taking a needle and vial from the case, he gently laid it on the floor before using the needle to draw an entire syringe full of clear liquid. Tapping the side with his thumb and index finger, the henchman squeezed a little out of the nozzle again to get rid of all the air bubbles before seizing Steve's arm and inserting the needle into the vein in the hollow where the detective's elbow was and depressing the plunger. He had just given the detective a lethal dose of amphetamines – but if it didn't kill him then it was certainly going to wake him up and make him more responsive to whatever Federico wanted to do to him.

Once that was done, Malasuerte moved to stand beside Federico as they waited for the potent drugs to kick in. He turned to look at his boss. "Jefe, the pig is loco for pulling a stunt like this." Shaking his head, a grin surfaced on his scarred face. "Who'd have thought that the head of Five-O would be so reckless as to attempt to go undercover when things are so hot right now?"

Federico allowed a truly sadistic grin to cross his face as he reached inside his shirt collar to pull out the heavy gold cross he wore around his neck. It glinted duly in the soft light as he replied. "Call it God's will, amigo."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN - thank you for all the positive feedback for this story, especially to Brazilianfan, you're just awesome! I tried so hard to get the descriptions right and make it as descriptive as I could. I'm so glad it's paying off! Also, there is more swearing in this chapter, please be warned. **

Lola sat at the bar next to Scully the barkeep as she sipped on the cocktail that her latest date had bought for her. It helped to wash away the bitter taste let in her mouth after they had gone into one of the rooms upstairs. Unfortunately a girl's got to eat and her pickings were rather slim tonight. She surveyed the mass of undulating heads in front of her as she parted her legs to try and scout out her next date. She parted her legs invitingly as she sat on the bar stool before using her hands to gather her long blonde hair in her hands before letting it fall down to cascade past her chest, taking a few moments to trace her fingers over the merchandise. She licked her lips as she finally saw a pair of eyes looking hungrily at her from the shadows where the strobe lights didn't quite reach. She tilted her head to the side and traced a finger across her lips and flicked her hazel gaze to the entrance before seeing a familiar head of black hair enter the club.

The bottom of her stomach dropped out at the sight of newly promoted Detective Ben Kokua as the man entered the club and surveyed her surroundings. Quickly turning around to shield her face, she tried to remain calm and not give herself away. Bringing an arm to brace against her head, she let her platinum blonde hair fall in a curtain to obscure her face as she motioned for Scully to come over. If Kokua knew she was here it was going to bust everything wide open and she was going to end up hacked to pieces and mixed with cement into the walls of Federico's latest property development. One would have to be blind to not hear the rumors floating on the wireless. "Scully, get your arse over here, got something for you."

Concerned at the sudden shift in the young girl's demeanor, the bulky bartender ambled over to where she was before fixing her with a penetrating green stare. She was jittery and nervous, and he waited as she fumbled inside her bag for a cigarette and lighter. However her hands were badly shaking and Scully reached out to seize the lighter in her hands before lighting her cigarette for her. "What's up, Lola?" Inexplicably, he couldn't understand the strong feeling compelling him to be nice to this girl, but it was there, and he watched her as she took a few drags of the cigarette before running her free hand through her mane of blond hair. "Come on, tell old Scully and he'll see what he can do for you."

"See that man you just walked in? Dark skinned, six foot one wearing a blue checkered shirt trying to walk through the dance floor?" She waited for Scully to find the man in question and when he nodded she continued. "That's Detective Ben Kokua of Five-O. They're casing the joint. Fuck, we've got to get out of here before the cops storm the place."

All traces of humor disappeared from the Australian man's face as his eyes locked onto the unsuspecting Polynesian man as he waded through the crowds. Muttering a litany of swear words under his breath, he quickly formulated a plan. "Right, thanks for the heads up Lola. Find either Federico or 'Suerte and tell them that the cops are hot on their tails and its time to dump the merchandise. It's too hot to handle." His voice softened as he laid a rough hand on her shoulder, the tender action causing her to look at him. "After that disappear, the heat's going to be brought down on this rock and you better go before it does."

"What are you going to do, Scully? He can't get any further than he has already so far. It won't be long before they show themselves as the dogs they are and go sniffing around for a bone. Its not going to take much more for them to find one and-mmmph!" The rest of what she was going to say was silenced as he clamped a hand firmly over her mouth.

"That's why I told you to disappear. And as for the pig, leave him to me. He's not getting out of this joint alive." Scully grinned as he let go. Merely nodding, Lola grabbed her handbag and slid off the bar stool to make her way across the floor to the darkened hallway where McGarrett had disappeared a few hours ago. He sighed as that was probably going to be the last he saw of Lola. Placing the spotless glass back onto the rack, he turned around to yell for his assistant barkeep. "Oi, Nicko. Get your arse over here, mate! Got a job for ya!"

"What?" the burly Hawaiian barkeep roared over the din as he shuffled to the corner where Scully was. Catching the bloodlust shining in those sunken eyes and the pink flush of excitement on those cheeks, Nicko grinned.

"Keep tabs on the bar for me, mate. Got to take out the garbage. Will be back in a few." Scully threw the tea towel on the counter before pushing the counter open and stepping outside the bar area.

"Will do, bruddah. Take your time." Nicko watched as Scully blended in with the crowd, before a holler from the other end of the bar caught his attention, and he went to fill their drink orders.

_**x-o-x-o-x-o-heartbeats in stereo-o-x-o-x-o-x**_

Danny sat in the drivers seat, straining to see past the crowds of people waiting in line to enter the club. He had to resist the strong impulse to jump out of the car and take a stroll past the club, just to see what was happening. Doing so would be to give their position away and with the lives of two Five-O detectives on the line that would have been extremely foolhardy. Drumming his hands on the steering, wheel, it didn't take much before he was picking up the radio handset in his hand and radioing Central Dispatch.

"This is Williams calling Central Dispatch. Do you copy?"

"This is Central Dispatch. Go ahead."

"Patch me through to, Chin Ho Kelly. First priority."

"Stand-by." The line crackled with static as the patch was put through. After a few moments the familiar voice resounded across the line. "This is Chin Ho Kelly."

"Chin, Danny here. Is everything set to go?"

"Yes, Danny. HPD backup is assembled and ready to go. We await your call. As soon as I receive word from you we will storm the place. I've put some officers around the perimeter of the club and at the back as well."

"I want that club sealed so tight that if anyone escapes we will know." Danny confirmed. He killed for a cigarette but had long given up the habit at Steve's request. Danny's fingers itched but he managed to quell the urge. "Don't let anyone suspicious out of your sight."

"Ten-four." Once Chin disconnected the patch, Danny replaced the hand set back on its cradle as he continued to wait. He glanced at his watch to realize that Ben had been gone for about twenty minutes. He put the headset back on to be swamped in the sound of heavy music and loud chatter. He imagined that Ben was wading through the crowds now, probably trying to find a seat at the bar and make his way though. It was a simple plan, but sometimes the simplest things worked the best.

At least that's what he was hoping for.


	4. Chapter 4

AN – I'm feeling blue today and I guess it shows in this chapter. I got this anonymous review out of nowhere and I am very mad.

_From: a bit concerned ()_

_This story has similarities of several other stories by several different_  
><em>writers, which I find a bit disturbing, especially given the recent happenings<em>  
><em>and accusations going around on this site.<em>

This person didn't even bother to sign their name to accuse me making them equivalent to shit in my book. It's like people don't want me even posting my story here especially after the anonymous review for my first chapter where they went mad at me for having Steve wanting a smoke even posting it even before they had finished reading the chapter. This was the anonymous review I'm talking about:

_From: this anonymous ()  
><em>

_Haven't read all so far so can't review properly but one thing I can say at once: Steve McGarret would never long for a cigarette. He utterly hates cigarettes. He even had a sticker in his car: "Absolutely no smoking in this car!"._

**To everyone else I'm sorry, but it just pisses me off when people accuse me of things I didn't do. Anyway, more swearing in this chapter, please be warned.**

Federico and Malasuerte were tossing back shots of whisky when there was a dainty little knock on the door. Growling, Malasuerte crossed the length of the room to press his eye against the peephole. Seeing Lola's scared face there, he snorted as he yanked the chain off the door and opened it, allowing the young prostitute to come into the room. Closing the door again, the sound of the chain as it slid back on the rail was deafening, and he could pinpoint the moment she saw the fallen detective on the ground. He came around to catch her wide hazel eyes staring fearfully at Steve McGarrett and he allowed a lazy grin to grace his features. "What do you want now, Lola? Get back to work!" He roared.

He moved to grab her slender wrists but she pulled out of his grip before backing away to hit the wall on the far end of the room. The horrible truth slammed into her and she was left feeling helpless. She couldn't stop the tears that cascaded down her face freely at the sight of the mangled heap of skin, hair, muscle and bone that constituted the detective. There was no hope for them now that Steve McGarrett was out of the picture. Federico had cemented his place in the dark criminal underworld, and all other syndicates were going to cower in fear and awe at the fact that he was able to kill the one they all wanted dead. She shook her head as she tried to convince herself that this was all a very bad dream.

A shadow fell over her as Malasuerte moved to grab her chin roughly and forced her to meet his black beady eyes. The man could smell the alcohol on her breath and had just formed vague plans to haze her to teach her respect when she finally spoke up. "Scully told me to tell you to drop the merchandise 'cause it's too hot to handle, and that the cops are casing the joint." She replied in a monotone. He let go of her and pushed her to the side, before slamming a meaty fist against the wall.

"Fuck!" Malasurte roared, turning around to glare at Federico. "What the shit are we going to do now? They have the joint cased and knowing that little bitch Williams probably has the entire area cordoned off! We're boxed in!" Furious, the Mexican man moved to the desk and poured himself a hefty three fingers of whisky before tossing it back, wincing as the alcohol burned its way down his throat. He took the cigarette Federico offered him without protest, letting the burn of the tobacco smoke sear his lungs to distract him from the mess they were all in.

"Calm down, 'Suerte." Federico cooed as he eyed the girl who had slowly slid to the floor. Fear radiated off her in waves and there was something about that which turned him on. His eyes travelled up the length of her sinewy calve, from the thick wedges of her heels to the dark spot between her legs where the tight leather of her skirt barely kept her modesty concealed. "You're forgetting one thing – we have McGarrett, and for all the stomping and screaming that the pigs will do, they wouldn't dare do anything to risk the lives of McGarrett." His voice then changed from soothing to furious as he glared at Malasuerte, "He's supposed to be waking up now, why hasn't he?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" the subordinate replied challengingly, as he moved to check up on McGarrett. Trying to avoid the pool of blood fanning out from the detective, the man jammed his fingers against the hollow of Steve's throat to feel for a pulse. It was still there, but it was getting slower and slower with each passing moment. The cop needed medical attention and he needed it now. He noticed the tinge of blue to the man's lips and placed the back of his hand in front of Steve's mouth and nose. He was alarmed to find that the man was barely breathing at all. "Shit, he's going to die if he doesn't get medical help immediately. Give it an hour or so and he's going to be ready to buried."

"Give him more of the drug, see if you can wake him up." Federico ordered, before pulling out his gun and clicking the safety off. He also extracted a silencer from his other pocket before screwing it onto the barrel and aimed it at Lola. Without missing a beat, the sound of the gun firing was muted to a dull pop as he pulled the trigger, causing her body to slam against the wall before sliding down onto the floor. "Then get rid of the garbage. I don't want any trace of her left here by the time I get back, understood?"

The other man merely nodded in reply as he wrapped the tourniquet around Steve's upper arm again. "Where are you going now?"

"To clear my head for a bit. The stench of all this fear is getting to me." Without a backwards glance, Federico walked over to the door before unlocking it, and disappeared, leaving Malasuerte in the room with the detective and the dead girl.

_**x-o-x-o-x-o-heartbeats in stereo-o-x-o-x-o-x**_

Ben had managed to shuffle halfway across the dance floor before he felt something cold and metallic press into the small of his back. Stilling completely, he waited for the man to press himself further into the detective, before leaning across to whisper in his ear so quietly that no one else could hear. "Come with me, or I blow your brains out."

Complying with the man's wishes, the Polynesian detective let himself be guided to the dark hallway and up the stairs. Anyone bothered to cast a second glance at the them would have just seen two men heading to the back of the club. There was nothing unsavory about that at all, and Scully had done it plenty of times. They walked to the end of the corridor and took a left to come face to face with some stairs. Slowly climbing up, Ben had just sucked a breath in and opened his mouth to say something when the barrel of the gun dug deeper into the small of his back. In a voice so quiet that he had to strain his ears to catch every last word, Scully spoke slowly. "Try anything funny, and you know what's coming."

Ben ground his teeth. Everything that the man had said so far was vague enough to sound like a threat but not enough to call him out for it outright. There was nothing that would pique Danny's interest and he wasn't even sure if the microphone could pick anything up, seeing as there was so much background noise surrounding them. He was pushed into a room with a bed and not much else in it, before Scully closed the door behind them and locked it with a soft click. The detective jumped at the Australian's directive. "On the bed, mate. Off with your shirt."

Panic began to claw it way up his throat and he looked at the man to see the gun was squarely trained on him. He briefly scanned the room looking for any sort of weapon he could use to defend himself. Sadly the room was as barren as the hopes of him emerging alive. The wire would be a dead giveaway that he was a cop, and as soon as he took his shirt off the other man was going to realize as such. Given the way the other man was screwing a silencer onto the nozzle of his gun, Ben's chances of staying alive diminished with each passing second. Thinking quickly, he tried to bargain for some time. "I…uh, don't know what this is all about, but I charge by the hour. You wouldn't be able to afford me." He let the fear melt into something approaching lust, even if his insides rankled. Adjusting his position on the bed, he splayed his legs out invitingly and began to unbutton the top three buttons of his shirt. "I don't just take off my shirt for anyone."

"Cut through the crap, Kokua." The Australian man grumbled, cocking the gun a little higher. "We both know why you're here, and it has nothing to do with party favors." If Kokua wanted to play a little game who was Scully to deny him the fun? In fact, a game sounded like exactly what they both needed at the moment to take the edge off things. He was going to push Kokua until he broke. "Why, you scared that I'm going to find something I won't like there?" Edging a little closer, he stopped at a distance that was almost offensively close as he ran a rough hand up the inside of Ben's jean-clad thigh. He smiled at the other man's shiver beneath his fingertips. "I'm really liking what I see so far." He paused for dramatic effect before adding, "Name your price."

Clamping down on the roiling waves of nausea, Ben kept his voice carefully level as he regarded the man in front of him. He moved a hand to run it along the planes of his chest, from the join of the clavicle all the way down to rest it gently where his heart was. The game had started and he was determined to be the victor. Licking his lips, he softly replied. "Depends on what you want me to do. I'm up for anything really. I guess I don't really have much of a choice in the matter, because you've got a gun pointed right at me. I'm at your complete mercy." Praying that the microphone had picked that up, Ben shuffled forward to run his hands across Scully's chest before starting to slowly unbutton the man's shirt.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN - thank you for all your comments and support in the reviews about the plagiarism thing. I hope that whoever it is gets punk'd majorly! I won't be blocking anon reviews because the more they do it the more they get shown up as jackasses more than anything. I looked around and found reviews where other writers have been accused and left. To the bullies - I'm not going to let you do that to me. Maybe from now on if you want to accuse me of doing something wrong or pull my story apart at least have the fucking guts to sign in. **

'_I guess I don't really have much of a choice in the matter, because you've got a gun pointed right at me.'_

As Ben's cryptic cue echoed across the radio waves, Dan threw the headpiece down and seized the mouthpiece between his shaking hands. He told the person at Central Dispatch to hurry with the patch and as soon as Chin's voice floated through he cut across the other detective. "Chin, get HPD ready to storm the club. The red flag's gone up. No lights, no music. As quietly as possible, I want you to assemble your men around the corner in as soon as you can. We hit the club as soon as everyone is ready."

"Ten-four." Chin replied.

Danny replaced the mouthpiece back and grabbed the bulletproof vest draped across the back seat. Quickly fastening the Velcro straps and making sure that the vest was on securely, the detective then reached down to make sure that the gun on his hip holster was fully loaded. Clicking the chamber shut with a soft click, he replaced it before jumping out of the car and closing the car door as quietly as possible. Reaching into the backseat, the detective pulled out the loaded rifle lying across it before dashing around the corner, to be greeted with the sight of Chin and what looked like most of HPD assembled armed with rifles and in bulletproof vests, ready for his command.

Danny approached Chin, who was hurriedly sliding on a bulletproof vest as well. The sound of approaching footsteps caused the older detective to look up and a grim smile crossed his features at the sight of Danny. "So how do you want to play this, Danny?" He queried. "Do we storm the front or storm from all sides?"

The younger detective thought carefully for a few moments. "We storm them from the front first, but have men waiting at the back so that when the roof comes down, we catch all of them." Danny turned around and repeated the directive for all of the officers, who nodded their assent. "Chin, you take half the men and wait quietly at the back of the club. Round everyone up for questioning, I don't want anyone to slip through the cracks."

"Right. The jails are going to be so full of people tonight." Chin replied, before looking directly at Danny. "And what are you going to do, bruddah?"

"I'm going to storm the front and lead the charge. They will most likely see me and concentrate on attacking and defending themselves. The big fish will most likely try to escape as the smaller fish try to play the role of Hero. We will use that to our advantage. Now go!" Danny watched as Chin took half of the men with him and they rounded the corner. Danny gave them a few moments to get properly set up, before turning around to face the men left behind. "Alright! We are going to storm the club, don't let anyone get away and I want them completely taken by surprise. Let's move."

The shouts of the HPD officers rung out through the night, and they helped to buoy Danny's spirits a little. "Right!"

_**x-o-x-o-x-o-heartbeats in stereo-o-x-o-x-o-x**_

Ben had just finished unbuttoning Scully's shirt and had to force himself to repress the deep seated shudder that threatened to rock through his body as he forced himself to run his hands across the planes of the other man's chest, tracing ghost like touches from the hollow of his throat down to his clavicle. From somewhere above him he could hear the Australian man's breath hitch in anticipation and as slowly as he could manage he moved his hands up to push Scully's shirt down, exposing his chest and his shoulders to the night time air.

"Hurry up, mate. I haven't got all night." Scully growled impatiently. This was pure torture and he wanted to get to the good part already. The part of his brain that was not currently caught in a haze of lustful fog connected with the fact that he had a gun in his hands, and that it could be used to speed things up a little. Raising the gun a little higher, he made sure that his voice oozed with threatened danger. "Get a move on, or your brains will end up splattered against the wall. Don't tempt me princess, I've killed a man before, and I will not hesitate to kill you." A small thrill of pleasure ran up his spine when he saw that Kokua was shaking and horribly nervous.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ben tried to contain the rising bile and he fluttered his long dark eyelashes at Scully. "So impatient. But what can I do about that?" Letting his hands roam down the slight protrusion of the man's pasty belly, Ben let his fingers run across the top of the man's jeans, before seizing the belt buckle between his hands and slowly unhooking the leather from the buckle. Pulling the belt free, the detective dropped the length of leather on to the floor, to then unbutton the other man's jeans and slide the zipper down expertly, before delicately pulling the man's fly apart to reveal satiny black boxers. He had just hooked his fingers into the jeans waistband when the lock at the door clicked and Scully turned around to look.

The moment's lapse in concentration was all Ben needed as he surged forward and knocked the Australian man to the floor, before backhanding him across the face. The gun went flying out of his hands and the detective threw his entire weight as he sat on Scully's chest and reached over to grab the gun, before pointing it in the trapped man's face. "Don't try anything funny, hands where I can see them!" Ben roared, as he stood up and backed away towards the wall.

"You bastard!" Scully roared, before bringing a hand to wipe at the blood that trickled out of the corner of his mouth. "You'll pay for that!" Seeing nothing but red, the Australian man got up and charged at Ben, who was forced to discharge the gun. The silencer mostly muted the loud crack, but the satisfying thump of the man's body as he hit the floor hard was not. The Polynesian detective stepped around the dead man's body, as he waited for the door to open. The hinges creaked as it did, and before Federico even had a chance to react Ben was on him. "Freeze! Hawaii Five-O, hands behind your head! Now!"

As cold and unflinching as ice, Federico complied with Ben's wishes. He had just raised his hands up when he seized the gun hidden by the loose flaps of his shirt and fired three shots directly at Ben, causing the detective to duck for cover. Unfortunately he was not fast enough and one of the gunshots hit him in the right shoulder, sending him flying backwards to slam against the wall as fiery pain blossomed where the bullet had entered. He used the momentum to fire his gun at Federico to wound, but he was a fraction too low and it became a killing shot. Ben watched in horror as the man flew backwards to slam into the wall, before sliding down to land in a heap on the floor. Getting unsteadily to his feet, Ben walked over to Federico's dead body as he pulled the second gun from the dead man's hands and disappeared into the dark hallway outside. Something was horribly wrong when screams started to rent through the club, almost but not quite being drowned out by the heavy drone of the disco music.

Alarmed, the detective quickly made his way through the door and down the stairs, almost being blown off his feet as hordes of people stormed in the opposite direction to escape whatever was happening on the dance floor. He pushed past them roughly, and it didn't take long before they realized that he had a gun and the screaming began anew again. He scanned the pandemonium before him and relief flooded his being when he caught glimpses of the familiar dark colored uniforms of HPD officers. Two officers had managed to shove through the crowds and had their guns aimed at him, but as soon as recognition clicked they lowered their weapons and grinned at him. He couldn't help but grin in response because it meant that Five-O was not far away, and that help was at hand.

"Detective Kokua, sir." One of the young officers said simply, "Please accompany us outside of the club. We will call for an ambulance for you." The officer was very surprised when the wounded detective merely shook his head. "But sir you need to get treated for your injuries."

"Don't worry about it. It's just a bullet wound. There are more important things to be done." Ben replied in an authoritative manner. "Take me to Danny Williams straight away."


	6. Chapter 6

**AN – whoa this plagiarism thing has gotten too deep too fast. Its none of my business so I will stay out of it – I'm only here to improve my writing and share with the readers, not get involved in these fandom wars. All I ask is please keep any personal vendettas away from my review page. Thanks! As for the long anon review, it stays there as an example of the bullying going on around here. Also, swearing in this chapter, please be warned. **

With a wave of his hand, the full frontal assault on the club started as the men used the element of surprise and the sheer volume of people to overwhelm the two bouncers at the front, who upon realizing it was HPD merely stepped aside to let the men pass. As a unit led by Danny, the men stormed the club and the young detective sent some his men everywhere in the club. He watched as some men disappeared down the labyrinth of dark hallways that seemed to spin off in different directions around the dance floor. The air was soon filled with sounds of screaming as people stampeded to get away from the armed police. He felt a nudge against his hand and looked to see a young officer hand him a megaphone. Nodding his head in thanks, the detective switched it on and raised it to his lips to shout out. "This is a message for Federico himself. This is Danny Williams from Hawaii Five-O. Come out with your hands in the air right now! This will be your first and only warning, Federico!" He switched the thing off and handed it back to the officer, before tightening his grip on his gun and going off into one of the dark hallways leading away from the dance floor.

Danny had just stepped into the hallway when he heard someone call out his name. Turning around, he saw another HPD officer rapidly approaching him followed closely by Ben himself. Relief flooded through him but quickly turned to worry when his azure blue eyes trailed off center to Ben's shoulder, which was quickly darkening with blood. Once his work was done, Officer Izumi bowed and left the two detectives alone, joining his comrades as they continued the search for the missing lead detective.

"Ben!" Danny gasped, eyeing the dark patch of blood soaked through the taller detective's shirt. He tapped an officer going past on the shoulder, causing the man to pause. He cleared his throat and ordered. "Get an ambulance here for Detective Kokua right away!"

"There's one already outside, sir!" The officer responded, before heading off to continue their search.

Turning his direction back to face his colleague, Danny resisted the impulse to clap the man on the shoulder, well aware that any movement could cause more damage. The bullet was still lodged in his shoulder and any jarring movements could result in instant agony. He settled for gently patting Ben's good shoulder and leading him outside, away from the din.

For Ben the cool nighttime air was like heaven on his face, helping to cool him down. Danny led them both outside the club and literally shoved Ben onto the back of an awaiting ambulance. He silenced any further protest by glaring at the injured detective before the EMTs came over and began to fuss over the injured man, insisting that he lie down on the stretcher before they began to administer basic first aid. Danny watched as they cut open his shirt and peeled the sticky blood soaked fabric away from his skin. The detective swallowed thickly when he saw the dark round hole the bullet had formed on Ben's shoulder. He averted his gaze because looking at the wound was a reminder of the fact that he had failed to prevent one of his ohana from being hurt.

"Hmmm, we have to get him to the Hospital right away. The bullet needs to be removed." The blonde haired EMT said to his companion before the red haired EMT nodded. They both turned to look at Danny, "Will you be accompanying Mr Kokua to the Hospital?"

Danny shook his head sadly. He still had a job to do, and from the way Ben was looking at him at the moment, he was sure that the Polynesian detective understood the heavy burden that still kept him here. With a final look at the injured man, Danny asked. "Do you have any idea where Steve could be?"

Ben seriously contemplated the question for a few moments before drawing a large mental blank. He looked at Danny and felt absolutely horrible for it. "I don't Danny. I'm sorry."

Upon seeing the dejected, crestfallen look on Ben's face, Danny forced himself to smile, more for Ben's sake than anything. It would not help anything to show Ben just how unsettled he was about the whole thing. They now faced a race against time to try and find Steve, who had seemingly disappeared without a trace. The prospects of finding Steve alive diminished with each passing moment. "I'll drop by the Hospital after we wrap things up here."

"Remember to bring Steve with you." Ben stated simply, before he laid back on the stretcher properly and allowed himself to be strapped in. The EMTs took great care to avoid touching his gunshot wound, which had been temporarily covered with a non-stick dressing and some sort of beige wrap at the top and bottom.

With a nod, Danny stepped off the back of the ambulance. He stood there and watched as the EMTs pulled the door closed before the sirens were turned on and the wagon sped off into the night. When it disappeared completely, the detective turned on his heel and walked back into the din of the club to continue his search for Steve. His men were under direct orders to use all force necessary to find the detective, and any damage to property was to be compensated from the State accounts. He re-entered the club and was relieved that the strobe lighting and loud music had been turned off, and the house lights were on. There was also the satisfying sound of smashing doors, as HPD raided the joint.

_**x-o-x-o-x-o-heartbeats in stereo-o-x-o-x-o-x**_

"Come on, Federico where the fuck are you?" Malasuerte growled as hid in the shadows, biding his time to make an escape. He was beginning to panic as the sounds of crashing wood and shouting got closer and closer, it wouldn't be much longer before they reached him. Most of the idiots had tried to make a run for it as soon as the cops swarmed the place but he knew better. He would wait until the pandemonium died down before making his move. He took one look at the detective lying perfectly still on the floor. Despite having given him two injections of amphetamines McGarrett was not stirring. If he received medical attention he would be able to identify Malasuerte from a line up and he couldn't let that happen. The shame it would bring to his household if he was caught! Mama Malasuerte would die of grief – she had already lost two sons to the drug cartel wars back in Mexico, imagine just how she would feel if her last surviving son was convicted and sent to prison. Given the heavy burdens he bore on his soul in the name of feeding and providing for his children, he would be put away for life if he ever went to court, and that couldn't happen – it just couldn't!

No, Malasuerte couldn't let the cop live. McGarrett was a danger to everything that the Mexican had worked so hard to achieve for his family, just so his children had a chance to go to college like all the other haole kids. He had to die, and despite receiving two lethal doses of drugs, the detective was still fighting. Growling and hissing under his breath, the man came to a decision. Removing the other leather case from his pocket he quickly unzipped it to reveal the needles and vials of blue liquid, which were filled with the strong sedative benzodiazepine. He needed to act fast because the sounds of rapidly approaching footsteps got louder. He was fast running out of time. McGarrett had to be die within the next five minutes. Plunging the needle into the seal covering the bottle, he drew an entire syringe full of the blue liquid. A tranquilizing dose was a quarter of a needle and a deadly dose was half a needle. The doorknob began to rattle as the cops of the other side tried to open it.

Sweat dripped down his nose and he brought a sleeved hand to wipe at it, before jabbing Steve with the needle. There was not enough time to bother with the tourniquet and he depressed the plunger quickly before drawing it out and throwing the used needle under the desk just as a loud slam reverberated and he looked up to see an axe embedded in the dark wood of the door. Quickly rushing to the window, he used his elbow to break the glass before launching himself head first out of the window to land in a heap in the alleyway outside. From both ends of the alleyway he could hear more rapid footsteps as the light from the policemen's torches bounced off the brick walls. Realizing that he was boxed in, he decided to give up without a fight, and ran to the next three windows and slammed his elbow through them. At the first HPD officer's "Hold it!" he ceased, and walked out towards them with his hands behind his head like a good man.

They were on him like a pack of wild dogs, shoving him against the wall as they frisked him, pulling out the daggers and the two guns secured to his hip and ankle respectively. He was handcuffed before having his Miranda rights read to him. As he was shoved head first into the back of a waiting police car, he couldn't help but grin at how they must be swarming Federico's office to stumble on the sight of the dead detective. It was highly likely that he had missed the vein, but all that meant was that the drugs would take a little longer to kick in as they had to be absorbed by muscle. The dose he had given McGarrett ensured death. On the plus side if he had found the vein, the detective's system would have gone into shock at the large volume of the drug injected, and how it clashed with the amphetamines the detective had been dosed with. In his weakened state due to the blood loss from the stab wound, the detective's body would not be strong enough to handle the shock. Either way, McGarrett was going to die before he reached the hospital.

That thought alone gave him more comfort than he could admit. The door was slammed shut and four other officers got into the car with him, before the driver started the engine and shifted the transmission into drive and the car pulled away from the curb just as an ambulance arrived on the scene. It was enough to cause the Mexican to start laughing – they didn't need an ambulance, they needed the coroner's wagon instead.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN - Hi everyone, sorry about the delay between this chapter and the last my weekend was mad crazy busy and today I finally got a chance to get on the computer. Hopefully this chapter's worth the wait though. Warning - some heavy Danny centric angst here.**

"Danny, we've found Steve!" The sound of Chin's voice as it rang through the hallways was glorious music to Danny's ears, and he followed the sound of that voice down a darkened hallway where yellow light pooled outside from the room at the very end.

Swallowing back his nervousness, he ran through the open doorway to enter a very bare looking office. Except for the pot plant in the corner and the rickety desk and chair to his right, the office was empty. The nighttime breeze caused the curtains to flutter, parting just enough for Danny to see the cracked glass. However he felt his world narrow down to the sight on the floor immediately to his left where Steve was lying spread eagled on the ground as the EMTs fussed over him. Acting on pure instinct, the detective felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest and the air squeezed out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe, nor could he stop the suspicious stinging in his eyes as a soft sob tore out of his throat. He shoved the burly EMTs out of the way to grasp Steve's face between his hands.

"Steve! No…"

On the verge of hyperventilation, the panic quickly gave way to horror as his hands could feel how cold Steve's skin was to the touch. He bent down and placed his ear against the fallen detective's mouth, listening for any sign of breath. There was none, and beside himself with desperation the young detective seized his older friend's shoulders and began to shake the limp body roughly. Biting his lip, the tears trickled down his face as he fought against the pair of hands that had grabbed his shoulders to pull him away from the injured, if not dead, man. Furious, he turned around to glare at the EMT who was trying to drag him away from Steve. "Leave me alone! What is the matter with you?"

"I'm sorry, sir. But he needs to get to hospital right away! His condition is critical and the more we delay medical treatment, the more likely it is that he will die. Please," the EMT begged. "Let us get him to Hospital, you can ride in the wagon with him if you want."

The medical professional's words were like the metaphorical twist of a knife and he tried to get his legs to move. It seemed that basic motor function was beyond him at the moment. His legs felt like lead and he just couldn't move. Horrified, he ground his teeth as he forced himself into a standing position, before stepping aside to allow the EMTs room to bring the stretcher in. Danny watched as the two large men lifted McGarrett up and placed him gently on the stretcher. The young detective tried not to look at Steve's head, which lolled around like a doll's.

He had always thought of Steve as being some impenetrable fortress, a beacon of the resilience of the human spirit, but seeing him here looking so broken and eerily skill really scared him. This was different from all the other times Steve had been injured – the man had still been conscious when that car bomb went off on his 35th Birthday and he had received immediate medical attention after Joyce Bennett had shot him while under the control of that psychology quack. He tried to clear his throat but nothing was going to force the lump of emotion there to go away – there was a very real possibility that Steve could die. The edges of his shirt had long dried from a vivid wet crimson to a flaky dull brown, and he had no idea just what his friend had been injected with. Seeing the man here really brought the message home that he was human too – cut him and he will bleed, beat him and he will feel pain. Do it too often and the body will often give up long before the mind does.

When he lost Jane Steve had been there to help him through the worst of his grief, had watched him go through the seven stages of grief – been there when he worked through his anger before falling far from grace into the clutches of the deepest darkest despair. After that happened he had sworn to himself that he was never going to allow himself to come close to anyone again, because in his line of work it was very possible that harm would befall them, or he just simply wouldn't come home from work one day. Steve had been the one constant in his life. What he had with Steve ran deeper than the most complex of friendships, deeper than the blood bond of brotherhood. Steve had stormed into his life and had uprooted everything and thrown it all to the wind - and he hadn't even realized.

At some stage he began to care for the dark haired man. He wasn't exactly sure It was all a jumble of half-sorted fond memories, and now was he watched the man's hand dangle limply from the side of a stretcher the tightness of his chest became even more painful, such that unconsciously he found himself sinking to his knees as he gave into the overwhelming urge to cry. A howl of raw emotion ripped from his throat as the very essence of his grief echoed around the room. All the officers working there ceased what they were doing to turn around and look at the detective as he buried his head in his hands and his shoulders began to shake. It was not something that men did, but he had never been particularly brave. His heart was a confused muddle of fear and regret and horror and self-blame and hatred and fury and anguish as well as a bone deep sort of weariness that signaled just how tired he was with all of this.

He had learned that friendships could fade just as easily as they were formed, as time forced a wedge between two people who were once inseparable. Kono showed that magnificently, when the Hawaiian detective had to come home to look after his ailing elderly mother. Even when Mrs Kalakaua passed away late last year, the young Hawaiian had been unable to deal with her death, instead choosing to get away from the Islands and all the memories of her. Kono ended up relocating to Miami - the next best thing to Hawaii and joined the PD there. For the first few months Danny would get letters from him, but as time marched on the intervals between the letters increased, until they stopped completely.

One thing that he would always remember was the note of sadness in the other man's words, that sense of wanting to go home, but never being able to. That crushing fear that rendered even the bravest men cowards – the refusal to admit that the most cherished of loved ones were no longer with them on this plane of existence.

He hated how despite his most vehement protest he had gone and done the thing that he had sworn to avoid that day as he stood in front of Jane's grave, when the wind whipped past his hair and he looked on at the tombstone where she would rest peacefully for all eternity. Now as he watched the EMTs carry Steve out of the office, he seriously wondered what he was going to do. He had always counted on the fact that Steve was going to be there to help him get through the darkest of times, when he hit rock bottom. He hated how at some stage he had become so dependent on the injured man, and was so blinded by this sense of belonging that it blinded him to the fact of his own dependence. He was weak man who needed to seek out a larger than life person to make him feel whole on a psychological level at the very least. Now that Steve was most likely dead he was truly alone, and that thought scared him more than he could ever admit.

A gentle hand laid on his shoulder forced him to look up. It was a simple gesture yet one that Steve always made when Danny was distraught or worried, and the act caused one bright bubble of hope to well up, filling him with warmth until he finally saw Chin standing over him, the older detective's concern radiating off of him in waves. "Come on Danny," Chin said in soft, calming tones. "The EMTs are waiting for you."

Danny tried to move, but found himself frozen in place by his very own fear. He didn't want to see the sight of Steve looking so broken like that ever again and the thought of being trapped in a small moving metal box with him was almost too much to bear. Suddenly the room was too small and he couldn't breathe through the tears that caused him to choke. Chin's hand rubbed smooth circles onto his back as the choked gasps melted to become hiccups. "I can't Chin," he admitted in a very small, defeated voice. "I just can't."

"Danny, I know it's very hard," Chin reassured him. "But nothing's impossible. One step at a time, if you please." When the younger man made no move, the older detective sighed. He hated himself for doing this but as Steve's listed Next of Kin Danny had to get on that ambulance. In his twenty years with the Force he had seen grief manifest in different forms, but never anything this extreme. Danny was locked in his anguish and despair, and it was looking increasingly likely that he was going to stay there until someone gave him a really hard kick. Shaking his head, Chin moved to stand up before huffing a breath in disgust. "You can't even get over your own fear to help your friend when he needs it the most! You're more of a coward that I thought Danny Williams, and if Steve were here right now he would be completely ASHAMED to be your friend!"

Chin spun on his heel dramatically and made a move to exit the room, but paused by the doorway when a Danny admitted in a small voice. "I know I am. I've known it for a long time. I don't deserve to have a friend like Steve. I guess I lucked out in that respect."

The older detective fought the instinct to go over there and comfort the younger man because it was likely to do more damage than help things. Danny was beginning to respond, and he was almost over the line. "Pathetic," he spat out, before storming out of the office. He prayed that it was enough, as he disappeared to try and find Duke to ask when Che Fong was going to get here.

Chin's words kept replaying over and over in Danny's mind, until he could feel nails digging into the palm of his hand and looked down, surprised to find that he had balled them into tight fists, which were trembling. His face was wet with tears and he brought a hand to wipe at them. Chin was right - he was truly pathetic. Being like this wasn't going to bring Steve back, nor was it going to help things. If anything, it was going to impede things. By allowing himself to remain stalled in shocked grief, he was endangering Steve as the EMTs were waiting for him. Each second was precious, and here he was being the biggest fool of all time. The emotional ache that threatened to pull him under reared its ugly and ignoble head again, but he fought it and forced himself to his feet. No, Steve didn't deserve to die alone in some cold impersonal room that smelt of sickness and antiseptic. He deserved better than that, and Danny was determined to be there for him, with him, offering him all the comfort he could give and praying for his recovery. Gulping large breaths, he rose unsteadily to his feet and slowly made his way out of the room.

Whatever happened was going to happen but he wasn't going to fail Steve one more time. He was going to be there when things either came around. He owed his friend at least that much. With a steely sense of determination, he headed along the hallway out onto the dance floor, crossing it to exit the building before feeling the floor to his stomach drop. He was too late and the ambulance was gone. There was a huge space where it should have been. He listened for the sounds of sirens but was deeply troubled to hear none.

"No use, bruddah." The familiar voice caused the grieving detective to turn around, and caught sight of Duke approaching him. His arms crossed, the HPD Sergeant looked anything but happy. "They just left. Couldn't wait for you 'cause Steve crashed and they had to get him to the hospital right away." He sighed as Danny looked like he was about to sink down onto his knees again. The annoyance melted away to be replaced with awareness, as he realized that Danny was taking this harder than any of them. He had been very close to their fallen comrade, so it was understandable that he was taking the current situation harder than anyone else. It didn't make things any better, but it made them a lot more understandable. "Come on," he enunciated softly before crossing to the driver's side of his patrol car. "Hop in, I'll drive you there."


	8. Chapter 8

**AN - almost at the end of the journey here! Thank you for the kind support for this story so far! I find Danny to be so much harder to write than Steve, and feedback is much appreciated. Please tell me in a review if you liked it or hated it, or if it just plained sucked. Thank you!**

Danny sat in one of the hard backed plastic chairs in the waiting room, nursing a long gone cold cup of coffee in his hands. For all he knew he could have been drinking battery acid and not have cared – his vision and attention were fixed on the small viewing window in front of him. The detective rolled the white Styrofoam cup backwards and forwards in his hands idly as a sense of restless jitters settled over him. He longed for a splash of something stronger in his coffee, or even straight from the bottle would be better, but the hospital did not allow inebriated people in its doors. It would be an extreme slap in the face to Steve if he got himself thrown out because he couldn't contain his nerves.

Unable to contain himself, he stood up and walked haltingly over to the small window and peered inside. He felt his heart seize as he watched the doctors and nurses fumble around to try and save Steve's life. "Come on Steve." Danny found himself mumbling as he tried to seek out Steve's face in between all the plastic tubing that forced him to breathe. "Don't give up on me now."

It wasn't going very well because the cart with a defibrillator was being wheeled in and Danny watched in horror as a nurse parted Steve's hospital gown before squeezing a hefty amount of clear jelly onto his chest, rubbing it in. His throat went dry when his ears finally registered the steady beep of the heart monitor. He swallowed audibly, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat when the azure blue eyes travelled to the heart monitor, where a steady green line flashed across the scene. Steve was not doing very well, and Danny had to look away when the paddles were placed on the detective's chest to try and jump start his heart again. Even though he wasn't looking, he could pinpoint the exact moment when the paddles were activated as the lights overhead flickered briefly.

Suddenly it seemed like there wasn't enough air in the room. He needed to get out of here before everything came crashing down again. The instinct to flee and get away from this nightmarish reality grew too strong to resist, and he bolted out of the waiting room, along the hallway where he ran straight into Duke, causing the HPD Sergeant to go crashing to the floor. "Duke! I'm so sorry!" Danny replied as he bent down to help the man up. The strain of the night's events was clearly taking a toll on the older man – there were dark circles under his eyes and he seemed very distressed and anxious. It had been a few short hours since Steve's admission to the hospital and there was no improvement in his condition. The doctor at the Emergency Room had merely said that Steve had lapsed into some sort of coma as his system went into shock following the lethal doses of drugs injected into his system by Malasuerte. "Are you okay?" Danny asked. "Any new developments?"

"Yeah, you can call them that." Duke answered, before bringing a hand to rub at the back of his head. The truth was, the news was neither good nor bad. It was horrible, and he hated having to be the one to tell Danny. Still, it had to be done. "Any other place we can talk besides here?"

"Yeah, let's go back to the waiting room." Danny answered, before turning his back and heading back in the direction from which he came. Duke nodded silently as he followed the higher ranked detective back there. The men approached the viewing window once again just to see Steve's body fly up from the bed slightly as the lights flickered again. Duke's eyes widened – Steve wasn't in that room, there was only the shell of the man left. He turned his gaze onto Danny, and his breath caught at the utter look of devastation on the young man's face. It seemed like his breath had caught on his throat and without realizing it, Danny had brought his hands up to rest on the glass moving closer to the thin layer that separated him from Steve. The sound of Duke clearing his throat caused Danny to snap his attention back onto the older man.

Now that Duke had Danny's attention, he felt unsure of just how to start. The lights overhead flickered again as an ominous portent of the news that heavily burdened his soul. In the end, he settled for a detached factual recount. "Federico's dead. Shot once in the gut by a .45 caliber registered to Federico. Ben's fingerprints have been found all over the gun."

"It was clear self defense." Danny rebutted firmly, hints of anger in his voice. It was bad enough that Steve was fighting for his life and now to have the whole bureaucratic red tape come down hard.

"I know." Duke sighed, bringing a tired hand to remove his glasses and rub at his eyes. He was so tired and longed for sleep, something to escape this nightmare that they had all been plunged into. Feeling Danny's eyes on him, he forced himself to continue. "Che's been working overtime on Steve's clothing trying to find out what was in the injections Steve had received. It's not going well, bruddah. The compounds had largely dissipated in Steve's bloodstream. All Che was able to find was that Steve was injected with something, probably an upper before a downer."

Danny nodded gravely. Having worked Narcotics and Vice prior to coming to Five-O he was very familiar with these drugs, and he felt his heart constrict painfully at the implication. They needed to find out what Steve had been injected with first, the faster they found out then the higher the chance that Steve would get the right help he needed. "Can't you ask Malasuerte?"

Shaking his head sadly, Danny was taken aback at the deep level of hatred and disgust in Duke's voice. "That is one lolo son of a bitch, bruddah. Complete pupule."

"What happened?" The young detective asked. He felt his heart race, and brought a hand to wipe at the fine sheen of sweat on his forehead as his throat clicked. Feeling the need to sit down, he moved to sit at one of the plastic chairs just to the right of the viewing window. If Duke saw the white-knuckle grip on the arm of the chair or the way his shoulders were shaking, the man didn't say a thing.

"Malasuerte was brought into custody." Duke began, but the more he said the more anger appeared in his voice. He moved to sit down beside Danny and continued his story. "Went straight into interrogation. Even know they are still questioning him. He refuses to say anything without his lawyer and is pleading the Fifth. John's working over him now, but it's going nowhere."

"Put more pressure on him. Squeeze him so tight, do what you have to, to make him sing. I want him singing like a canary as soon as possible." Danny rushed out breathlessly as he stood up and began to pace.

Duke couldn't help but smile – Danny's mannerisms at the moment were classic Steve McGarrett. The influence of the man on his protégé was very apparent at the moment. Sadly, it did nothing to alleviate the larger issue at hand. "Due process, bruddah. John's trying to cut him a deal for his cooperation." At this point he audibly sighed. "That's not going so well either."

The dark peal of laughter that emanated from Danny sent a shiver up Duke's spine. It was something that he had never observed from the younger man as he paused in his pacing to stare at Duke. Malasuerte was going to deny everything until the very end. "Malasuerte's not going to get away with this. He knows that we have him in the bag. Che has found his fingerprints all over the used needle under the desk with the benzodiazepine and HPD is scouring the club from top to bottom looking for a used needle of any sort."

It was clear that those things gave Danny comfort, but the Hawaiian HPD officer knew better. Duke didn't have the heart to smash through that belief – people coped with these situations in different ways, and well, if it gave them comfort then who was to deny Danny that? He knew that Federico had a hand in every illegal operation on the islands, from prostitution to drug rackets. That club also served as an opium den and place to score, so who knew how many used needles they were going to find there? They were in a race against time and the odds were stacked against them. HPD hadn't even finished collecting evidence – despite their best efforts it was not good enough. Clearing his throat, Duke asked. "Have the blood test results come back yet?"

Before Danny had a chance to reply, the doors in the ER slammed open and out walked a doctor still in his scrubs holding a clipboard. He approached the two men and used a blood stained gloved hand to pull his facemask down and waves of nausea rolled over Danny, as the metallic smell of blood got stronger. He turned his head to the side in an attempt to get away from it. "Excuse me, which one of you is Mr Danny Williams?" the doctor asked.

"I am." Danny answered as he moved to stand up. He eyed the clipboard of documents in front of him and accepted it when the doctor handed it over. He glanced at the typed font and tried to read it, but it was an unintelligible mess. He sighed. "Doctor, can you please explain what I am signing for?"

Duke looked on sadly at the scenario playing out in front of him. The fact that the doctors were requesting Danny's informed consent as Steve's medical proxy spoke volumes about the Head of Five-O's condition – Steve's condition was more serious then they all thought initially. It really hammered home the possibility that he was not going to make it.

The doctor began to explain in a very cool, detached voice. "We have managed to repair the stab wound to Mr McGarrett's abdomen. However we had no choice but to put Mr McGarrett under anesthesia during the procedure. He did not respond so well to the anesthesia and has lapsed into a coma. We believe that he is experiencing toxic shock from the illicit drugs that have been injected into his system as well as shock from the trauma of the stab wound. He is also experiencing a fever from sepsis caused by the stab wound."

"Please doctor." Danny begged in a voice that cracked with emotion, barely audible in the deathly quiet of the waiting room. "What am I signing for?"

The doctor sighed. "Its permission as Mr McGarrett's medical proxy to switch off the life support. At this stage there is nothing more we can do for him and the chances of him waking up of his own accord are very, very slim."

"Danny…" Duke gasped, as the young detective threw the clipboard on the floor with all of his strength, feeling vicious satisfaction as the wood cracked.

"NO!" Danny shouted as he ran a hand through his hair, before continuing in a markedly calmer tone. "No, I can't allow that. Steve is going to pull through." As Danny's voice brimmed with powerful emotion, it was clear to all in the room that what Steve and Danny had went deeper than the bonds of friendship, perhaps even further than the blood bonds of brotherhood. They were truly inseparable partners, bound to each other until the very end. "Steve is tougher than he seems, he WILL pull through." The young man's voice softened. "I know he won't give up without a fight."


	9. Chapter 9

**AN – Thank you for sticking with this story until the very end. All feedback is very much appreciated. **

Life continued on as usual.

Danny became the temporary head of Five-O while Steve was on a leave of absence. Chin stepped up to the mantle as Second-In-Command. Ben had returned to work after a week off and occasionally had trips to see the physiotherapist who was helping to rehabilitate his shoulder. The bullet had torn through a very important ligament and the Polynesian detective still had residual stiffness and pain, but it was nothing that popping a few anti-inflammatory tablets wouldn't be able to cure. For a while though, he was under strict orders from Dr Bergman to take things easy. Danny did his best to thrive under the heavy burden that Steve had worn on his shoulders for so many years, it added a new facet of his understanding about Steve, and a lot of the older man's actions were now understandable. He felt a deeper connection and the veil of mystery around the enigma that was Steve McGarrett lift. It was another thing that they could share together, just has how now Chin shared his burden with being Second-In-Command.

There had been a wave of organized crime as various gangs and syndicate vied for the position of the top criminal element on the island now that Federico's empire was gone. Thankfully, due to Danny's strong stance and quick action, the impact of the wave was more like the ripple in a pond, and the local criminal element learned that Danny Williams was not a man to be crossed. McGarrett had truly taught him some craziness and the young man did not give an inch. The heavy burden of responsibility was lightened slightly with their daily lunches, which were a very one-sided thing. Danny would bring a chicken sandwich and a cup of strong black coffee, just the way Steve liked it. He took his hour lunch break at the hospital, where he would say things to Steve about a wide variety of things - about cases Five-O was working on, about the latest developments in the Federico/Malasuerte case, or just about life in general. He hoped that Steve would be able to hear him through his coma. Malasuerte had refused to cooperate with any of Five-O's investigation and despite his vehement protests about his innocence and the miscarriage of justice that had occurred, the Mexican man was sentenced to a life in prison at Oahu. They couldn't bring Federico up on charges but they had the next best thing, and Danny was sure that Steve would be glad for that.

The one thing that remained unspoken between them was how much Danny missed Steve and the easy camaraderie they had shared between them. He missed the mutual bond of friendship and the comfortable easiness they had. To the hospital staff it was as clear as day, from the lingering touch as Danny always patted Steve's shoulder, allowing his hand to remain on his injured friend's for a fraction more than was considered normal. It was evident in the unguarded softness that appeared on the man's face as he sat there in the lone chair in the room and just talked, sharing bits and pieces of himself. But most importantly, it was clear to everyone in the way that it didn't matter if it was rain, hail or shine – Danny would always pop in during his lunch break armed with a cup of hot coffee for Steve and a sandwich for himself and stay there for the whole hour, and it didn't matter if the world imploded on itself or the sky was falling, Danny would always be there.

Anyway, he settled back in his chair as he unrolled the paper that Jenny had brought for him to find himself staring at a picture of prison guards swarming around a body amongst a large pool of blood on the floor and the headline 'TRULY MALA SUERTE FOR OAHU'S CRIMINAL EX-LORD.' The article went in detail about how a wronged enforcer for Federico turned into a made man against his will finally got vengeance against the subordinate officer who burned him.

The news should have been welcome, but after the long weeks since the events at the _Go Go Club, _Danny didn't feel the sense of relief that he was expecting. At the trial Malasuerte had been established as the one to inject Steve with a deadly mixture of amphetamines before trying to kill the detective with an equally deadly dose of tranquilizers. Danny now felt strangely hollow, as the last vestiges of his anger died, only to be replaced with a gnawing sense of loneliness. The death of Malasuerte didn't make it anymore likely that Steve was going to wake up nor did it right all the wrongs that the Mexican man had committed. In the end it did nothing and was more of an anticlimax if anything. He missed Steve and it felt wrong for him to use the man's office, even though he was now acting Head of Five-O. The further time went by, the less likely it was that Steve was going to wake up. Even though it would have been unquestioned for him to move in, it felt wrong somehow. There could only be one true Head of Five-O, and so long as he is breathing, then it will always be Steve.

He was just getting ready to start writing the report on the Disaresta case when the telephone rang and Danny seized the receiver up with one hand. All the breath rushed out of his lungs as the caller identified himself as a male nurse from Queen's Hospital, and he had news about Steve's condition. His heart stirred in his chest and jumped up to his throat. The weight on his soul lifted a fraction at the call, meaning that there was a new development in Steve's case. The rest of what the male nurse had to say was drowned out by the white noise that buzzed in his head. Before the call had even disconnected properly, the young detective was out of his seat and grabbing his jacket off the rack. His energetic movements caused a wave of confusion in the offices but he didn't care. He rushed out of his cubicle at breakneck speed as he shrugged his jacket on, barely sparing a glance backwards at Jenny.

"I'm off to the hospital, be back soon."

**~THE END~**


	10. Epilogue

**AN - after seeing the renewed interest in this story through the multiple, repeat hits this month to it and a review by lanteaddict, I realized that I hadn't ended the story properly. Thank you for pointing it out to me!**

** Odysseus' Last Days will get updated eventually.**

Danny arrived at the hospital, sliding to a stop outside Steve's hospital room before running a hand through his hair and smoothing out the creases on his clothes. As soon as the nurse had called him at the Five-O offices he had made his way to the hospital at breakneck speed upon hearing the good news.

Steve had woken up!

Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened the door and came inside the room which had become his second home over the past few months to see the wonderful sight of his mentor and friend. He hadn't known how worried he was until the sight of Steve's smile put him at ease. He felt an incredible lightness overwhelm his soul.

"Steve," Danny said, as he approached the bed before taking his place on the chair that sat by the bed. He couldn't express his relief in words.

"Hey, Danno…" Steve croaked, seemingly a shadow of his former imposing self. He tried to sit up a little further to talk to Danny but the action left him feeling drained.

The Second-In-Command placed a gentle hand on Steve's forearm, rubbing slightly on the warm skin there. He trailed his fingers to wrap them loosely around Steve's wrist, feeling the comforting constant pulse beating under the skin. "I'm so glad, Steve. So very glad."


End file.
